


A Light in the Storm

by aminiatureworld



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: I passed out two days ago in a drugstore parking lot and this is the result, Kind of..., M/M, based off a true story, does this count as hurt/comfort?, trigger warning for panic attacks and passing out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26659051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aminiatureworld/pseuds/aminiatureworld
Summary: Jaskier, having just joined Geralt, is excited for new adventures. Unfortunately for him panic strikes at an inopportune moment, and his adventure, not to mention his relationship with the Witcher, is thrown into question.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 76





	A Light in the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> The ending might be a bit brusque, but I thought that going on would be a bit irrelevant to the core of the story, as well as to the development of the characters. I might release the rest of it as an epilogue, tell me if you'd like that!
> 
> If you want to know the true story this is based off, as well as if you wish to read my thanks to those who've read my most recent fanfiction before this, please read the endnote. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy it!

If Jaskier had to decide the worst part of losing mobility in basically one’s entire body, being unable to even sit properly, much less climb or move about, was probably the worst bit of it. Lying down, hissing in pain as he propped up his elbow in a way that hurt less, because a baseline of pain was a given at this point, Jaskier lay his head back upon the pillows and wondered where it all went wrong. Not that he didn’t know, he knew the exact moment everything went wrong, and it was the first time he’d ever seen something get struck by lightning.

He’d been about twelve at the time, and it’d been an offshoot building for one of his parents’ manors. Lightning had struck the wooden roof, and the fire torched the whole thing to ground, as well as a wing of the greater manor and about half of the gardens. The whole family as well as the servants had run outside in a panic, and it was hours before the blaze had been put out. The memory had seared into Jaskier’ss brain, as had the unfortunate side effect of panic attacks which, in the worst cases, resulted in him passing out.

Of course such a handicap at least had the benefit of being easy enough to hide. The odd thunderstorm, though it set his heart and mind racing, usually didn’t result in something as drastic as fainting, most panic attacks didn’t. So when he’d set off with his new witcher friend, or whatever Geralt was calling them, Jaskier didn’t consider the possibility that one such attack might surface. Besides, he wasn’t a teenager anymore, surely he’d grown out of it! Unfortunately for Jaskier, hubris is _not_ , in fact, stronger than fear.

They’d been up in the mountains when the troubles really started. The first flashes of lightning had set the hairs on Jaskier’s neck straight up, but counting it the storm seemed a good thirty miles away, and surely it would all be okay. His tentative optimism had been destroyed pretty quickly however, and when Jaskier saw a flash of lightning, willowy and branching like an infernal tree, he knew that it was a matter of time before the panic caught up with him. “Geralt…” he called out to his companion.

“Hmm?” Came the familiar reply. Normally Jaskier thought the Witcher’s reticence to speak was vaguely hilarious, and definitely adorable, but in that moment he felt sure that, had he also been on horse, Geralt would’ve been two seconds away from getting strangled. Gritting his teeth and attempting to keep his tone light, Jaskier pressed on.

“I think we ought to find shelter, wait for the storm to ride itself out. The thunder must be unpleasant to witchers, no?” He looked at Geralt, who was glancing towards the storm, the storm whose growing strength seemed directly congruent to Jaskier’s panic, and silently pleaded that he’d said something of some sense, that he might be able to save his pride before he lost it forever.

“It’s far enough, it won’t bother us. Besides,” Geralt glanced back at Jaskier, a vague smirk painted on his face, “Roach and I have both seen and heard much worse.”

“Of course you have.” Jaskier muttered to himself, realizing that the possibility of a simple escape was simply not going to happen, and wondering if he could just willpower himself out of the situation. Surely he could tell his brain to just… not? Continuing on the mountainous trek, and flinching every time he say a flash of lightning out of the corner of his eye, Jaskier almost thought that he might be able to make it, for they were about to turn away from the highest cliffs, and thus the unobstructed view of the storm, when another flash of lightning, this one seeming must closer, hit a group of trees, which promptly burst into flames.

“Geralt…” Jaskier gasped out, for the familiar feeling of heat was rushing to his head and the world was beginning both to fizz out of his vision, seeming mosre and more like he’d been dunked underwater.

“Jaskier?” Geralt shifted in his saddle. Jaskier stumbled forward, almost losing his footing, his knees seeming to go out beneath him.

“Alcohol-” He managed to make it that far before some unseen obstacle hit the tip of his boots, and, listing slightly to the side, his eyes closed and he was enveloped by heat.

Jaskier came to, feeling quite groggy, lying on his back, his arms bent around his head. He immediately felt the return of the hot, floating feeling, and closed his eyes, waiting for the cool, open air to come back to him; only then would he be safe. Attempting to sit up after the first few cooling moments, Jaskier found he could barely do such a thing before immediately having to bend over again, as everything around him swam.

“Jaskier!” The voice came to him belatedly. Too weak and unsure to look up Jaskier gave a short “uhm” back, assuring Geralt that Jaskier was, indeed, alive. A wineskin was shoved into his face, the pungent smell snapping a bit of the heat and static back, and Jaskier grabbed onto it, drinking deeply, despite the taste being, charitably, something akin to piss. He gasped for air after a few seconds, the confusion slowly wearing off, but the adrenaline still too prominent for him to care much about his situation, at least care any farther than the battle to keep awake, for he’d truly failed to fight it off the first time.

“How long.” He croaked out at last, still staring down, his head in his arms. He was vaguely beginning to register the stinging pain, which surrounded his left elbow, right knee, right shoulder, and various parts of his hands.

“Five minutes or so, eight maximum.” Jaskier sighed, but he was grateful that the man hadn’t simply rode off, leaving the poor bard to, well, Jaskier wasn’t sure. He wasn’t even sure what to do now, unwilling to ask how much damage this whole thing was going to do to his new relationship with his companion. For, as he was quickly becoming aware, Jaskier had just presented a most embarrassing scene, and, almost in preparation for Geralt’s inevitable scorn, embers of resentment began to flicker.

“Sorry I inconvenienced you like this.” He knew his tone probably sounded like a whining old man, or perhaps a wchild who’d shouted for a bit too long, but everything was beginning to hurt _a lot_ more, and Jaskier could barely find the energy to raise his head up, much less deal with such complicated things as the breakdown of a barely started acquaintance. “I’ll be fine now.” He gingerly stood up, but the panic attack was gone, as suddenly as it’d arrived, and Jaskier found that he felt perfectly fine. Ignoring Geralt’s questions and gruff assurances that they could wait, accepting only to ride on Roach for some time, Jaskier quickly had them setting off again, wanting nothing at the moment but to find someplace where he could sleep for twelve hours, and dreading nothing but what would inevitably happen after that.

When a town had finally been found and they’d arrived at the stables, Jaskier realized that maybe he should’ve just walked. Bending his knee hurt like hell, but it was the slightest movement of his left arm that had his nerves screaming in pain. Stiffly swinging his right leg over, Jaskier fell out of the saddle, and probably would’ve hit the ground, if Geralt weren’t there to catch him.

“You need to get a doctor.” Geralt’s voice seemed even gruffer than usual, and Jaskier fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“What I need first and foremost is a bath, and to rebandage everything again, do you witchers not use regular herbs to fight infection? Or is it a liquid diet for you all.” Lifting himself up Jaskier gave a short “thank you” to Geralt, before walking off, or attempting to at least, his pathetic hobbling goin the speed of about 0.005 miles per hour. His pride was smarting, now that the danger of a relapse was next to none, and the stares of the townspeople hardly helped one bit. Scowling, Jaskier stared at the slight step that one needed to cross to get into the inn, but before he could screw up his courage to get his leg up he was suddenly hauled up off the ground, and straight into Geralt’s arms.

“You need a doctor.” The Witcher reiterated, and this time Jaskier said nothing, silently admitting that Geralt did have a point, even if it was one that the bard would rather not admit. His arms both flaring, not to mention his dangling knee, every step Geralt took had Jaskier swearing in pain, and slightly worried that he tumble out of the other man’s arms. Thankfully Geralt seemed an expert in carrying wounded people, and even managed to grasp under Jaskier’s arm, to his great relief. Ignoring the stares, it wasn’t every day a quiet village saw a man with silver hair carrying another man who looked like he’d just gotten the shit beat out of him, Jaskier closed his eyes, and silently wondered how fast the Witcher was going to drop him once the danger had passed.

The apothecary, for there were no real doctors in a place like this, made quick work, and even quicker examination of the bard, and soon Jaskier was given his promised bath, before being shuffled into a rough bed, pillows propping up his leg, left arm, and head. His hands had also been bandaged, the apothecary having asked what kind of cat Jaskier had gotten mixed up with after seeing the cuts in his fingers. It would be a while before he’d be back on his lute. It was that, more than anything else, which frustrated Jaskier, for even after his hands healed there was still the matter of his elbow, having been dislocated and badly bruised, which resulted in most movements, even bending, being impossible before and now, the apothecary having set the bones back into place, incredibly painful. Music was everything to Jaskier, and the thought of how much time he’d have to spend away from it put him in the blackest of moods.

There was another thing that kept Jaskier from drifting off to sleep, no matter how much his body screamed at him to rest. That, of course, was the matter of Geralt. So far the Witcher hadn’t said much. He’d listened to the apothecary’s orders as to how Jaskier was to rest, before silently carrying him back to the inn, his only words being to the man behind the bar, asking for a room and hot water. After helping Jaskier strip and bathe, something the bard would never stop feeling embarrassed about, Geralt put Jaskier to bed, before walking out the door without another word. Nothing more than half an hour could’ve actually passed since then, but to Jaskier the minutes felt like hours, and enough time had passed for him to live out a variety of scenarios on how Geralt’s leaving was going to go. Jaskier at least hoped that Geralt would tell him, rather than perhaps just ditching him to ride off in search of less pathetic companions.

Eventually Jaskier must’ve fallen asleep, for after what seemed merely like a blink of the eye the world had suddenly turned to night, and Geralt was back, with a wide variety of supplies, which crowded the table in the room. The Witcher himself was staring down at Jaskier, who attempted a small smile, one that the Witcher didn’t mirror. He looked as stone faced as ever, but he was back, and that had to count for something, right?

“Geralt-” Jaskier began, but the Witcher shook his head, before walking over to the table and picking up something.

“Poultice, for the cuts on your hand. It’ll bring the swelling down, and hopefully prevent infection.” He reached out his free hand, and Jaskier tentatively placed his own hand in Geralt’s palm. Unwrapping the bandages, Geralt spread out the slightly warm onto the bard’s palm, and Jaskier sighed, for despite the heat it did indeed seem to be drawing out the pain.

“Glad you know something of herbs.” He looked to Geralt, who smirked slightly.

“We witchers don’t solely rely on, what did you call it, a liquid diet?”

“Well thank the gods for that!” Jaskier exclaimed emphatically, before growing serious, for if they had to part, he’d rather it’d be on his own terms. “You don’t have to stay with me Geralt. Thank you for bringing me here, for your help with the innkeeper and the herbs, and stripping me down to my braies…” he paused, hoping that his face wasn’t as red as it felt, or at least that Geralt wouldn’t take much notice of it, “but I can take care of myself now. I know you weren’t thrilled to have my company in the beginning, and that a witcher can’t very well take on a companion liable to faint at every passing storm. I cannot blame you if you leave, but I’d like you to at least give me notice, that way I’ll not expect you back.” Realizing he’d been speaking so quickly he’d forgotten to breathe Jaskier choked out the last words before a long intake of breath, followed by a sigh. He looked at the Witcher, who was staring back, brows furrowed slightly.

“I’m not leaving you.” The words were short and brusque, and Jaskier was beginning to feel irritated. Why was the man making this harder than it already was? The last thing Jaskier needed was pity nannying. 

“Damn it Geralt I’m bruised, not paralyzed. I’ll be perfectly fine in a day or two, and good as new in a few weeks!” Pulling his hand out of the Witcher’s his elbow grazed the mattress, and Jaskier let out a hiss of pain. Rearranging himself, Jaskier then turned back to his companion, who now was most certainly annoyed, as was evident from the frown contorting his face.

“Last I checked perfectly fine people aren’t hurt by pillows. I’m not leaving, and that’s final.”

“You say that now, but what about when I’m better, huh Geralt? You really expect me to think that you won’t leave the minute I can walk? There’s no point in pretending otherwise, so stop trying to act like your plans for staying go past a week!” Jaskier felt he’d probably said too much, but he’d already collapsed in front of Geralt. Whatever dignity he’d had in regards to the Witcher had definitely disappeared the moment he’d required reviving after a thunderstorm.

“Do you think so little of me and my kind as that?” Geralt’s tone was gruff again, half incoherent by hurt, gravelly and low. “I’m going to abandon you in the middle of fucking nowhere. And I’m not going to listen to you throw accusations at me. If you want me to leave I will, but I’m not going to act out your twisted scenarios to save your pride.”

“This has nothing to do with pride!” Jaskier burst out, though he wasn’t being entirely true, for indeed there was a part of him that smarted at the idea of Geralt knowing about how badly he reacted to storms, that resented the idea of adventures being thwarted by a single incident such as this. Geralt was evidently as unconvinced as Jaskier, and simply raised an eye. s

Trying to find better words Jaskier sighed. His head was pounding by now, and he wanted to do nothing more than go back to sleep, for starting this conversation now seemed like a horrible idea. “I want to keep traveling with you,” he restarted, “but I don’t want either you or myself hampered by this. I joined you because you smelt of adventure, remember? I’m not about to be coddled, or for you to keep me out of pity while you secretly resent my presence. Or for you to leave me in town every time you go out. If I wanted that I would’ve stayed home.”

“I won’t do that.” Geralt replied. “And I wouldn’t give up the Path for your fear of storms. But I also won’t simply leave you. I won’t coddle you, and I won’t abandon you. Happy?”

“And if there’s another storm?”

“Then I’ll load you up on liquor. Isn’t that what you were asking for before you fell?”

“It does help.” Jaskier admitted. “But are you sure you’d be willing to jump through all those hoops? I don’t want you to resent me.”

“I am. And I won’t.” The answers were as simple as the assurance he wasn’t going to leave, but this time Jaskier felt slightly hopeful, not to mention wildly lucky and a bit in disbelief.

“Why?” He ventured, for he had to know, had no illusions that Geralt was the kind of man who would do this to anyone in need. Not the same man who decked Jaskier in the stomach the first time they met.

“Because I want to.” Geralt replied, before turning towards the table, a sign that the real answer wasn’t going to be revealed anytime soon. Content with that Jaskier let his head loll back on the pillows and once again drifted off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Two days ago I passed out in a parking lot after getting vaccinated (get your shots y'all I've passed out before but am still up to date) and decided hey when life gives you lemons! Due to the unfortunate state of medicine in the Witcher universe I changed shots to lightning. Coincidentally earlier this summer a transformer (the electricity kind) was struck by lightning and two garages and a house burned down on my block. Write what you know, amiright?
> 
> My deepest thanks to the 127 people who read my last fanfiction, as well as the 10 who gave kudos. I realize it was a bit of an incoherent music rant, so I'm so glad that at least some people found it enjoyable. You guys are the best!


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